Core Strings
by AriadneVex
Summary: Happy endings are not set in stone. Many years after the Last Battle Hermione Granger stumbles upon an unexpected challenge that disrupts her whole life. And help is not always found where you expect it…
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger slammed the door behind her back in anger. No. She was not angry. She was furious. Ron's guilty expression and reddened ears lingered behind her eyelids as she was walking away from their home. The home where they had made a beautiful family out of their friendship, where she had been happy. Well, mostly happy. Actually, she wasn't even angry at him, but at herself. She should have known. All the signs were sudden change of habits, the bad excuses, the boosted ego. She had let her logical thinking and analytical abilities be clouded by wishful thinking. By denial. Of course he was cheating on her with his new blond curvaceous colleague. She even looked a bit like Lavender. Definitely acted like Lavender in regard to making him feel good about himself - adored, desired. Hermione had always undermined him, he said. And what he needed was appreciation.

She almost knocked down an aged muggle man with a cane as she was blowing her nose, so she stopped to rethink her destination. Didn't feel like apparating out of London. Didn't have anywhere to go, really. Her only true friend was Ginny and she was his sister after all. Plus, she didn't feel like bumping into Harry. He must have known. This strengthened her decision to stay in muggle London and just look for a place to cool down. Actually, maybe it was the appropriate place for her considering...No. One thing at a time.

She headed toward The Raven and the Serpent, where she wouldn't stand out too much in her austere black skirt and white shirt. Clothes for wearing underneath her mantle in the Ministry, not for a night out. At least she was in heels and had some makeup on. The walk to Chelsea took her twenty minutes. Enough for some of the swelling around her eyes to soften. She let her hair down to lessen the "lawyer" image she was probably projecting and entered. The bar was crowded with chattering people and dimly lit. There was an elegant young man with glasses playing the piano in the corner. A small female crowd had gathered around looking at him transfixed. Some of them eyed Hermione when she walked in but probably thought that a 30 something woman who had borne two children wasn't much of a competition, so they returned their attention to the musician. Hermione briefly wondered if she had remembered to put the time specifications on her laundry spell but quickly dismissed the notion. Really, the cleanness of Ron's clothes should be the last thing on her mind right now. So she made her way to the bar and ordered a Jamison on the rocks. She pondered Rose and Hugo's reaction when they eventually found out of their parent's separation. Was she really going to leave him though? The children would be devastated. But could she continue living with him after the affair on top of his constant looks of pity and disgust towards her and her.. issues.

She was on her second glass when she heard a disturbingly familiar voice behind her.

'Well, well, this place should really be called The Lioness and The Serpent'.

She turned around to find Draco Malfoy grinning behind her. Stunningly, he was dressed in muggle clothes - black jeans and a slim fitting black shirt. His hair was longer than last time she saw him, not that she crossed paths with him much in the ministry. He was definitely aging better than Ron who had slowly been growing bold and fat.

'Bugger off, Malfoy'

'Hey, what happened to polite coldness between ex-enemies.' He sneered. 'I didn't take you for an alone-in-a-bar type of girl. Or whiskey type of girl for that matter. You might attract unwanted attention'. His eyes darted suggestively to the edge of her skirt where the hem of her stocking was slightly showing. She readjusted on her chair to cover it.

'I think I already have'.

'Ouch. Sharp as usual. But I guess I had that coming.' Suddenly, Malfoy shifted his gaze to the man sitting on the chair next to Hermione who had been throwing him nervous glances for some time. To Hermione's utter dismay the man sorta shrinked and left the chair, which was soon occupied by Malfoy's lean body. He didn't even look smug, as if strangers habitually discomforted themselves in his favor. Which was probably the case. Rich and famous was a magical combination even in the muggle world. She suddenly felt deeply uncomfortable and blurted:

'So, you come here quite often, right?'

'Indeed. How did you know?'

'The bartender and a few other girls have been throwing me stares that range from confused to downright jealous so I figured I am not your usual pick of the litter'. He seemed perplexed for a moment and she laughed. Bitterly. 'So, you've been preying on innocent muggle women. Of course you would. I only hope you're not dosing anyone with love potion, cause that is enough to get even you in trouble with the ministry'.

'Well. Thank you for your high opinion. How easily you convicted me of being an adulterer and a rapist. Typical Griffindor heuristics.'

'Are they correct?'

'Only the adulterer part. But I don't usually have to use magic to get laid. For some reason women trip over each other to get their hands on me'. He said it matter-of-factly, without a hint of bragging, yet she found it necessary to roll her eyes at him.

'And how does your wife feel about it?'

'Astoria can shove her thoughts up her pure-blood arse if you ask me. Whenever she can find space considering it's usually occupied by some high-born wizard's prick. And I don't seem to qualify anymore.' He must have seen the horror in Hermione's eyes, cause his expression quickly went cold and spiteful.

'Don't you dare feel sorry for me, Granger. How are things going with your weasel? Potter seems pleased with his particular breed, but you've looked unsatisfied for years. I've always pictured the long nosed morron as a lousy fuck. You being here tonight, the smeared mascara... Everything screams thunder in paradise.'

'Fuck you, Malfoy' was all she managed.

'That can be arranged'. He stood up and casually threw 50 quid on the bar. Hermione decisively averted her gaze from his right hand so close to her own but then he moved it to play with a strand of her hair and leaned in even closer.

'You are obviously upset. Find yourself a nice hotel and sleep it over. And try not to stir a shitload of trouble with those endless legs of yours'. His left hand swiftly grazed her thigh and then she was left alone with her whiskey and her misery.

_**Author's note: This is my first attempt at fan fiction. It's intended as a gift for my best friend - a dedicated Dramione fan. I must warn you that English is not my first language and there are inevitably going to be mistakes. I hope they are not Unforgivable. **_

_**Core Strings is probably going to be around 10 chapters and I plan to update twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday. Enjoy! **_


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione woke up in a white room at the Victoria Best Western Palace with a bad hangover and a dull ache in her solar plexus. She decided to forgo the self-pity and jump straight to planning. Finding a way to go back home and pack a few things while avoiding Ron was potentially problematic. Going to work with a suitcase without raising questions was more so. She remembered she still had a purse with the undetectable extension charm in her wardrobe and relaxed. The bathtub in the hotel looked enticing. It was still six o'clock, she had enough time.

Before slipping in the steaming water she looked briefly in the large mirror. Not too bad for a mother, she'd practiced yoga for a couple of years. But endless legs? That's ridiculous. That aspect of the previous day seemed the least painful so she resigned her mind to studying it. Malfoy seemed different somehow. More subdued, less of a braggart. What changed him...age, family life or the war? Anyway, who was she to judge, they were all different. But Malfoy sounding concerned for her? That was beyond strange. Maybe he had developed a taste for Мudbloods. Or considered shagging her to be a more humiliating revenge on his wife. He said something that caught her attention but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Something about his wife enjoying the company of high-born wizards.

Her head fell back against the edge of the tub and she exhaled slowly in pleasure. Sensual delights other than coffee and chocolate were not a regular experience for her. It was incredibly annoying that Malfoy had somehow sensed her dissatisfaction. Her and Ron's sexual relationship had gone a bit labored this past few years. And not because Ron was a 'lousy fuck'! Well, in all honesty she didn't have anyone to compare him with. Still, this was not the reason. Until now she thought that's just what happens - you have kids, responsibilities, countless small tasks that devour your time and energy and sex is just not a priority anymore. Apparently it didn't happen to everyone. Not just men, too. Malfoy had implied that his wife...Wait. He said he didn't qualify anymore. What did he mean by that? Maybe it's just that his family reputation was suffering in the aftermath of Voldemort's demise. They were still a part of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight', obviously, but that didn't have the same importance in contemporary wizarding society. She had to talk to him, even if it was a red herring.

Hermione dressed quickly and headed to the reception desk to book her stay for a few more nights. She could use the time off to finally face this nightmare.

The end of the workday was approaching when she made her way to the Ministry's dreadful elevator. Which was her least favourite part of her job. Working in Law Enforcement was overall rewarding but the bloody elevator felt like a gruesome mixture of flying on a broomstick and riding a roller coaster. She was still battling the obligatory nausea when she reached the floor where Malfoy's office was. The massive ebony door with his name on it was suitably imposing. He answered on the second knock with an annoyed 'Now what?!' At the sight of her, his expression flickered through surprise and settled on amused.

'I guess you've decided to take me up on that offer. I finish in an hour, but we could just use the desk if you're as desperate as you look'. She almost slammed the door in his face. Finally she decided against it, if only because the abundance of assholes in her life was not any door's fault.

'Wow. Being Head of the international potion regulation committee must really be a stressful job if you are willing to ditch it even for the drudgery of shagging someone like me.'

'What's that supposed to… why are you even here?' His eyes narrowed. The silvery blond of his hair was striking against his black robes. Merlin's beard, she was distracting herself with bullshit just to avoid the task at hand.

'You said something last night. About you not qualifying anymore. In front of Astoria. What did you mean by that?'

'Seriously, I pay your check one evening by pure chance and now we're best friends? Am I expected to spill my guts out to you, tell you all of my secrets? Why on earth would you even think that I meant something by it? Maybe I was just drunk and blabbering.'

'Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I'm… sorry. I'll just go.' But she stood where she was, carefully examining his features. 'You overreacted a little though. It did mean something, didn't it?' He stared at her for a few moments, suddenly solemn.

'I don't qualify as a wizard.' He was looking away from her now, his hands gripping the desk behind him. 'I've been gradually losing my ability to perform magic'. He spoke so softly, yet his voice resonated in every cell of her body.

_**Author's note: Expect chapter 3 on Thursday. **_


	3. Chapter 3

Draco regretted his confession the moment it escaped his lips. He braced himself for the imminent pity and disgust, but there were none on Granger's face. Only understanding. Hermione Granger. Something about her had always made him go too far, say too much... cross the line. Acting outside of his carefully calculated plans was an uncommon occurrence in his life. And yet, here they stood.

'So have I.' He looked at her, staggered. 'I've been losing my magic, too. For some time now. When did it start for you?'

It took him the better part of a minute to collect his thoughts. She waited patiently, completely silent.

'Maybe two and a half years ago. It was the year my mother passed away. Scorpius went to Hogwarts that autumn. But I'm not sure… at first I discarded the incidents. I was tired, stressed, distracted. I kept finding excuses. I questioned my wand, bought a new one. Didn't make a difference. At first it was only the complicated things - high level transfigurations, the Patronus. I couldn't brew a decent potion. It got worse with each passing month. Now I can't even manage a Lumos.'

'So this is why you were at a muggle's establishment.'

'I've been trying to hide it, yes. Can't exactly socialize with wizards and witches when I need a bloody lighter to smoke. Astoria noticed soon after… She can't stand looking at me, let alone touch me. As if it's contagious'. He didn't even try to control the bitterness in his voice. Why bother?

'Isn't it? We understand nothing about it! But I know what you're saying. It's been the same for me. Ron, Ginny, even Harry… they try to be supportive, but… Anyway, avoiding us is a normal defense mechanism. We are a talking, walking reminder that something so precious could be just.. lost.'

Draco felt light-headed somehow. Hearing this 'we' from Granger's mouth was weird. He observed her, lost in thought, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. Gorgeous, even in her anxiety.

'I've tried researching it, of course.' She continued 'Couldn't find a reference anywhere about such a condition. A person is either born magical or not. There is no middle ground. Someone could be not especially adept in magic, but this… degradation… As far as I know, it's never happened before'.

'Yes. I reached the same conclusion. At first I considered the possibility that it had something to do with _this'_. He slightly lifted his left arm to indicate the thing in question. 'But none of the others seem to have issues'.

'So, why you and me? The common features of the deterioration are obvious - roughly the same time period, extremely stressful circumstances, gradual progression…'

'What were your extremely stressful circumstances?'

'Well, Hugo leaving for Hogwarts. Suddenly I felt...empty.' She sounded forlorn. 'It couldn't be contagious. Nobody has been infected and we don't really share surroundings. Can't remember us being alone in a room together'.

'Well…'.She stared at him so forcefully, that he hesitated. 'There may have been one time.'

'Enlighten me, Malfoy, when have you and I been alone in a room that I have no recollection of'.

'That time…' he swallowed uneasily 'When you were held hostage in Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix stayed in to drawing room to ..to..'

'To torture me'. Her voice was ice cold.

'Yeah. They sent me away to take care of the snatchers. When I came back, she was gone and you were lying on the floor, barely conscious'..._her luscious curls scattered on the carpet, a single tear rolling down her soft cheek, her body motionless..._The memory nearly overwhelmed him.

'Do you really think this could have something to do with what's happening now?'

'No clue, just thought I should tell you'.

'Nevermind. You have given me some food for thought. I may need to speak to you again if we're to figure out this mess. Since using owls is not particularly comfy where I am staying, do you happen to have a muggle phone?

'Of course not'.

'Get one. Here's my number'.

She scratched it on the first piece of paper she could find on his desk, apparently eager to leave his company. Probably mentioning Malfoy Manor had reawakened her hatred towards him. He allowed himself a sigh after the door shut behind her. Bellatrix… could this really have something to do with her after all these years? He had an inkling of where he could go looking for information, but he really, really hated going to Azkaban.

_**Author's note: Hi, guys! Any ideas about where this is going? I would love to hear your hypotheses. Feedback is highly appreciated and the next chapter will be here on Tuesday. **_


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Draco made some necessary arrangements and set out on the long and disheartening trip to Azkaban prison. Visiting his father was always...challenging. The unspoken intent in sentencing him for 25 years was clear as day - he was supposed to die there. But Lucius was disappointing the Wizengamot by staying surprisingly healthy going mostly on spite. Narcissa's death had somehow made him even more determined to outlive his sentence.

Azkaban's visiting room was gloomy and damp as usual, but the guard that escorted him was unnerving Draco. The man had a mousy face and fidgety gestures which unpleasantly resembled Wormtail's. A jingle of shackles announced the arrival of his father.

'It's been two years, Draco. You've simply outdone yourself. How is my grandson doing?' Lucius looked fragile, so thin he was almost transparent.

'I've had other things to attend to. Scorpius is fine. He's adapting beautifully to life in school. He already made good friends there, a few of them muggle born.'

'Did you come here to provoke me, boy?!'

'No. I was simply underlining the improvement of our dynasty's parenting techniques. But that's not why I am here. Father...when the...When Voldemort was using the manor as a base and Bellatrix was living with us, did you notice her doing something...strange?'

'Strange?!' Lucius' laughter was like scratching on a blackboard. 'Bellatrix has done things that would have you screaming and vomiting, things so perverse and disturbed you couldn't begin to comprehend them. But strange… who can say.'

'You always knew she was deranged'.

'Speaking of the woman trying to get into the Dark Lord's bed? She was deranged all right. But your mother loved her and it was all that mattered. I heard them having a fierce argument once at the manor. Your mother was shouting at Bellatrix. That qualifies as strange, one might say'.

'When was that?'

'Around the time Tuli died, I think. My memory is not what it used to be'.

'I see. Thank you, father. You've been helpful' Draco stood up to leave.

'Draco. You didn't even ask how I fared'.

'You're alive. That's more than you deserve.'

On his way out he had to fight the effect of the dementors' presence and the cold grip of his guilt without the comforting shield of his Patronus. His thoughts drifted towards Hermione. He felt inadequate, confused and completely useless. Since he probably couldn't sink any lower, he might as well tell her everything.

After five minutes of nervous pacing in front of room 046 at the Best Western Victoria Palace and calling himself a coward, Draco gathered the courage to knock. Granger opened with a worried expression, but relaxed at the sight of him. Unwise, letting him in so easily, considering his status as an ex-Death Eater. He could be here to rape her and kill her after all.

'What are you doing here? And more importantly, how did you find me?'

'I send one of my house elves to follow you'. She looked at him appalled, which helped him redirect his attention away from her lacy see through pyjama top.

'Are you shocked because I had you followed or is this a S.P.E.W issue?'

'Both!'

'Well, I had some more information to share. Besides, the treatment of house elves at Malfoy Manor has substantially improved since I am in charge of it. They have only been dying on us when Bellatrix was in the house. I reckon she overdid the punishments out of boredom. Or maybe merely her charming company got them deceased. I was very fond of one of those elves. Tuli used to play exploding snap with me when I was a child. Eventually it got her punished and me intimately acquainted with Lucius' walking stick.'

'Your tearful childhood stories won't get you in my good graces,Malfoy. What information?'

'I went to see my father in Azkaban'

'Anything useful?'

'Not really. He remembered an argument between Bellatrix and my mother. Otherwise only his usual nastiness and reminders that I am the worst disappointment of a son ever to take breath in the world' He looked around. There were books scattered everywhere, leftovers from a take away dinner. She hadn't been home.

'Hey, Granger, how is it that Weasley has not besieged this place begging for forgiveness yet?'

'He's probably too embarrassed to look at me. Last time we saw each other he was balls deep in another woman on my custom made kitchen table'. She sat on the bed and opened a large book with black leather covers. 'I've been doing some reading, trying to cross reference magic with known diseases and curses, then checking cases that connect two people. I've been meaning to ask you...Did you touch me? That night at the manor?'

Oh, boy. Time for revelations. He was mortified...he had planned to take this particular shameful secret to his grave. Draco drew a deep breath.

'I think there might have been something.'

'You think there might have been something? That's not an answer. That's not anything!'

'Okay, okay. Look, Granger, I think …I might have had a small crush on you back in school'

'Excuse me?! What crush, you hated me, mocked me all the time, called me a Mudblood…'

'Yeah. Didn't it strike you as a bit excessive? I did hate you at first, or so I thought. You were everything I was instructed to despise. But you carried yourself with a kind of dignity that not many pure blood witches possess. You were astoundingly smart, daring, unapologetic. I kept watching you. I got annoyed anytime Potter and Weasley got away with shit because of you. Then puberty hit and I realised... Well, you can only have so many wet dreams of a girl before the coincidence hypothesis loses ground.' Hermione's cheeks were flushing violently. Was she able to perform magic, she would have cursed him a thousand times by now.

'So, that night at the manor… I tried to hide your identity, but...And then when I saw you lying there, I thought that was probably my last chance and I kissed you.' She gasped in horror. 'I kissed you and there was a...reverberation…'

The door burst open to reveal the wand, extended arm and the rest of an enraged Ronald Weasley.

'You did what you filthy cockroach?! Hermione, what is he doing here with you?'

'He is not shagging me on a table, that's for sure. You have some nerve, Ronald, showing up here, expecting me to give you explanations!'

'Hermione, I…' Weasley looked like he was choking to Draco's profound pleasure.

'Well, if you insist on having this conversation now…'. Granger's voice was heavy with menace and quiet. 'Draco, could you leave us, please. I will talk to you tomorrow.' Draco bowed politely in her direction and left feeling vaguely pleased with himself.

_**Author's note: Greetings! Again, you are very welcome to express any thoughts about the story :) Also, thank you so much for the favorings and follows! New chapter on Thursday as promised ;) **_


	5. Chapter 5

Sitting amidst what looked like a hundred quid worth of used tissues, Hermione felt thoroughly drained. Her argument with Ron last night was as ugly and tormenting as expected. He had resorted to every known trick of emotional blackmail - at first weeping and apologizing, then not-so-subtly implying that him cheating on her was her own fault. What finally ended her patience was the accusation of her being a bad mother and ruining their family. His next move was probably going to be involving Harry and Ginny. Or even worse, Rose and Hugo themselves. Somehow, despite her ongoing marriage crisis, Hermione felt that she had more important things to mull over. She took out her wand and pointed it toward an empty glass on the bedside table.

'Aguamenti!' Nothing happened, except the slight unpleasant tug under her ribs. It was growing worse. Last week she was still able to produce many routine spells. Now she tried to levitate a sheet of paper and it floated briefly before graciously falling to the ground. Maybe the extreme stress of the past few days had diminished her magical skills even further. Draco's seemed to be already completely extinct. She felt a sharp stab of guilt over her disquieting inability to keep her mind away from him. Ascribing their increasing closeness to the shared misfortune was only logical. But she could no longer hide the attraction towards him from herself. He sounded so broken and vulnerable, telling her about the terribly inappropriate kiss he had stolen from her as a boy. The mask of cold self-assurance had cracked to reveal a damaged man. Hermione knew she had to pull herself together and face him.

...

When she walked into her office, she found him already sitting in her burgundy armchair, waiting.

'Late for work, are we? I've been here for almost an hour. Probably raised a few eyebrows in the department.' He was grinning, but a slight trepidation in his voice gave away his nervousness. Hermione gazed at him for a moment. The morning light from the window was illuminating him from behind, causing his hair to look like it was glowing. His eyes were darkened, searching for something in her face.

'Mal…Draco. You mentioned a reverberation. Can you describe it in more detail?'

'Not sure...it was like an echo. But I did not hear it, I felt it in my body. Like something drilling into my solar plexus. And then it was over. Now that I think about it, I've had some weird sensations there, especially when I'm straining to do magic. Although not in a while.' His hand unconsciously darted to his ribcage.

'A tugging, almost painful, but not quite?' He hummed in agreement. 'The manipura!'

'The what?'

'The manipura, the third primary chakra in ancient vedic tradition, it's over the solar plexus. It's considered the location of the core self. Don't you read at all?!'

'Not as much as you, no. Anyway, how does some yoga gibberish help us get our magic back?'

'I don't know yet. But I am convinced that Bellatrix did something to me that day and when you... touched me it affected you too. Until I know what exactly that was, there's nothing I can do.' Draco looked deeply disappointed. She had to fight the urge to caress his hand in a futile attempt at consolation.

'Too bad there isn't anyone around who considered her a loved one. Otherwise we could just go and fetch the Resurrection Stone from whatever shithole Potter dumped it in and summon Bellatrix's spirit to ask her. I can image the conversation: Hey, aunty, did you accidentally make me a squib in between torturing muggle borns and killing house elves…' Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

'Yes, the elves! You said a few of your house elves died while she was living at Malfoy Manor...They are usually resilient and long-lived creatures. How exactly did they die?'

'I remember Tuli getting sick...she just withered for a couple of weeks and then died. Same thing happened to the others, but with all that was unfolding nobody spared a thought for them, I guess. Maybe Maicy will remember something - she is the oldest house elf at the manor...' Right away Hermione started to get ready to leave which earned her a snippy laugh form Malfoy.

'If I knew that an interview with one of my house elves was enough for you to come home with me, I would have arranged it earlier.' She decidedly ignored him, while searching in her jeans' pocket for a small packet of flew powder. She passed it to him and gestured toward the fireplace. Smiling, he threw some in the flames and clearly said 'Malfoy Manor, master bedroom'. She had no choice but to follow.

_**Author's note: Happy reading! Your reviews are warmly appreciated :) Next chapter on Tuesday.**_


	6. Chapter 6

The master bedroom in Malfoy Manor was not what Hermione expected. There was no dark aristocratic air, no canopy bed, no posh curtains. The room was light and designed for comfort. The only hint of Slytherin legacy was the luxurious emerald carpet and the couple of matching pillows on the bed. Hermione spotted a pile of books on the floor, and on the bedside table reading glasses and an open letter bearing Hogwarts' stamp. Also no hints of female presence.

'What about Astoria?' Draco blinked as if trying to decipher what she was asking.

'Oh, she is occupying the west wing. I don't see her much, when Scorpius is not home'. Hermione nodded at the same time trying to scan the book's titles from her place next to the fireplace.

'Umberto Eco, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Duma, a history textbook… Why on earth are you reading muggle literature?!' Draco's lips tightened slightly.

'For some time now I've been considering that I may need to move to the non magical community permanently instead of being a constant embarrassment for my son. And I didn't want to be regarded as uncultured.'

'Let's hope it won't come to that'. Hermione tried to sound hopeful. For her it could be… bearable to find a regular job, to return to muggle society. But she somehow couldn't picture Draco Malfoy buying socks at the mall.

'Come on, I'll summon Maicy at the sitting room down the hall. She is in no shape to stand these days and she would iron her hands if I make her sit on my bed.' Hermione eyed him. Was he sincere or was it a pretence for her sake?

Maicy was an extremely tiny house elf with a white cloud of hair that made her look a little like a dandelion. She tried to bow when Draco summoned her, but he quickly led her to sit. Her miniature body was not covered by a pillow case as it might have been some decades ago, but by a neat uniform with the Malfoy family sigil. She looked...proud.

'How can Maicy be of service master Draco?'

'There's something I need you to remember, Maicy. When Bellatrix Lestrange was living here with us, she and my mother had an argument. Around the time Tuli died. Can you recall something like that?' She looked hesitant. As if sharing the secret argument between the two pure blood witches was distasteful.

'Yes, master, Maicy was there and heard. Mistress Narcissa was furious. She said Madam Lestrange was meddling with things that weren't to be meddled with. She feared that her doing experiments might endanger Master Draco.'

'Experiments?' Hermione interjected.

'Maicy doesn't know… Madame Lestrange spoke of a gift she was to give the Dark Lord, something powerful that would secure the purity of the magical world. But Mistress Narcissa wasn't convinced the Dark Lord would be pleased with her gift. Then Maicy had to prepare dinner, Master Draco...Maicy could hear no more. Maicy is sorry.'

'You've done beautifully, Maicy, that's enough.'

'Just one more thing, Maicy' Hermione spoke softly, hoping not to invoke unnecessary sadness. 'Do you know anything about the death of the other house elves? Was there magic involved, some spell you didn't recognize?'

'We house elves don't use magic the same way wizards and witches do. We don't know about spells.' Hermione exhaled. It was a long shot anyway.

'But there's a notebook of Madame Lestrange's that Maicy found among Mistress Narcissa's possessions, which Maicy thought was peculiar.'

'Did you keep it?' Draco's voice was excited.

'Yes, Master, Maicy will bring it for you'. She disappeared with a loud pop. Hermione and Draco waited in silence, staring in each other's eyes. Maicy returned in a minute with a small, worn out notebook. Impatiently Hermione skimmed through the pages. It was full of names connected in family trees, some schemes, maybe of battle configurations and … there it was. A list of experimental spells. Some had crosses drawn next to them, some ticks. The last one was underlined violently. The manic pleasure of Bellatrix was evident even in her writing. _Magicae Occidere. _There was an arithmancy formula next to the spell and a small drawing of a person with a spiral drawn on the solar plexus.

Hermione was dumbstruck. She barely registered Draco dismissing Maicy and sitting next to her on the sofa to take a look in the notebook. He followed her gaze to the last words on the page and hissed.

'Magicae Occidere… does it mean what I think it means?'

'Yes.' Hermione was trembling. 'It explains everything. She designed a spell aimed at suffocating someone's magical core'.

'But...what happened to the house elves was different - they got sick and just died'.

'They are magical creatures. They cannot live without magic. People can.'

'Why did it take so long to take effect on us?' Hermione was still wondering about that. Then she remembered her own far less macabre experiments in attempt to improve her laundry schedule…

'Time specifications... she wanted to delay the effect on me. Most likely your mother's words frightened her. Voldemort's supporters wouldn't be very happy if they knew he could kill their magic in punishment. So she decided to give him her present after they had won the war. It would be such convincing proof of their cause - someone muggle born proved to be non magical after all. I was just a convenient test subject. She must have set it for a couple of years - enough for his rule to be stable. But time specifications… they require adjustments. So after her death they became... dispersed.'

'So you're saying we could have lived our lives never knowing we had this curse?'

'Maybe if we were mostly calm. But that's not how life works… and it activated.'

'Do have any ideas…?'

'No, not yet.'

Hermione was utterly desolate, desperate for a notion, a thread to hold on to. Draco's warmth beside her lured her in and she leaned her head against his shoulder. His smell was intoxicating. His breathing became ragged and she felt herself nearly slipping...No. She stood up abruptly and swiftly headed to the door, but Draco was faster. His hand darted past her to press on the door. Trying to overpower him was pointless. She slowly turned around. Draco's eyes were burning.

'Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, Granger?' He moved closer, his hand sliding over the door to get tangled in her hair.

'My name is not Granger anymore though. It's Mrs Weasley' She could feel his breath on her face.

'I don't care, Hermione'. Draco didn't kiss her. He slowly drove his tongue along her lower lip. Maddeningly. Hermione felt something deep inside her unwind. She pulled him towards her with fury and passion she didn't know she possessed. Kissing him was like bathing in lava. His hands were everywhere, caressing her breasts under her shirt, squeezing her thighs...bruising and exhilarating at the same time. He pulled away and she looked at him confused, dizzy with desire. He grabbed her shoulders, turned her around and slightly kicked her right foot to open her legs a little further apart. He pressed his hardness to her butt and undid her jeans. When his fingers slipped in her knickers to find her wet for him he groaned desperately.

'Now is the time to say no, if you're gonna. I don't think I can control myself any longer.' His tortured whisper made her want him even more. Having lost her ability to speak somewhere down the road Hermione just lowered her jeans and pants down her legs. In a second he was inside her, moving slowly at first, holding her tightly with his left hand. The fingers of his right hand were still on her clit, making her forget who she was. His speed increased, the pleasure inside her searing, almost unbearable. She turned her head to look in his eyes and he kissed her. The light touch of his tongue to her own was enough to send her over the edge and she came, gasping. That seemed to be the last drop for him too. His movements became erratic and he finished soon after, his fingers buried painfully in her left hip.

As their breathing slowly evened, Hermione felt boneless. She finally managed to button her pants and just dropped to sit on the floor. He sat next to her, suddenly anxious.

'Hermione, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking…'

'No. It's not that. I wanted it too. But I wasn't completely honest with you earlier. The curse...I believe it's irreversible.'

_**Author's note: So... it looks like this will turn out to be at least 12 chapters. Feel free to comment and question anything! Chapter 7 on Thursday :)**_


	7. Chapter 7

Draco was trying to concentrate on the report for the meeting with the french Potion's comité patron and failing miserably. He was supposed to meet Hermione at Hogsmeade tonight so that they could travel to Hogwarts together without raising suspicion. Suspicion of what exactly he was not sure. Nobody at the Ministry was likely to assume an affair between them. Although this was precisely the case. He tried to smother his gloating. No. An affair was incorrect or at least premature. It was a moment of weakness for her. Was she in her right mind at that time, she would never had let him touch her, he was certain. There was a part of him that regretted it - the part which had imagined countless sexual scenarios involving her. Most of them comprised Hermione slowly succumbing to his seduction, completely abandoning everything else, begging for him, calling out his name in ecstasy...And not him acting like a sex crazed teenager and she giving him a… not exactly pity fuck, but desperation inspired fuck. Anyway, regret was pointless. He had always considered himself an opportunist. He saw a chance and he took it. Maybe tomorrow she would figure out a way out of their plight, go back to her pathetic excuse of a husband and return to hating him. Then he would still have the memory of her taste, of the sound of her breathy moans, of the feeling of her coming undone underneath his fingers.

Draco was surprised to find himself not as thrilled at the idea of getting back his magic as he was supposed to be. Perhaps he was just trying to spare himself the disappointment if they didn't succeed. Or on some level he had already accepted his fate as punishment for his many sins. Besides being a wizard had never been a good enough reason for him to be happy. The sparks of true happiness he could distinguish in his life were connected with Scorpius - watching him fly a broom for the first time, building paper plane models with him, breathing in the scent of his pale blond hair, so similar to his own. Maybe that was all the magic a man should hope for.

Sitting in the headmistress's office Draco was watching Hermione cross and uncross her legs for what was probably the twentieth time since they arrived. She had been mostly quiet on their way here, warily avoiding his questions about the exact purpose of their visit. It involved a book, unsurprisingly. Hermione was dressed in a tight black dress, her unruly hair braided - the picture perfect of a ministry official on a business trip. Only her lipstick was a bit darker than was generally accepted in work environment which gave the whole look a touch of sexiness. Unfortunately offering a quick fuck in front of Albus Dumbledore's portrait was way too Gryffindor for him. Hermione seemed to catch the trail of his thoughts since she rolled her eyes in disgust. Of course McGonagall chose this exact moment to enter.

'Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger...Oh, I'm sorry Mrs Weasley. You have to forgive an old woman the occasional slip'. Her hair was completely white by now, her face heavily wrinkled, but the sharpness of her eyes remained the same. This was not a slip, but a question.

'Actually, I prefer my maiden name at the moment, Professor'. Well, that was good news.

'Hmm. And are you two here in your capacity as school board members?'

'No. More like ex-students'.

'Well, I'll do anything in my power to assist you, Hermione.' Again, the omission was not even close to accidental.

'Professor' Hermione started hesitantly. 'Can you tell us what is known about the mechanism a person becomes magical or non magical?'

'Oh. That's not a frequently asked question, especially now that the most of magical society readily embraces muggle born students.'

'I understand, but I have my reasons'.

'There are theories, most of them purely speculative. There's the blood hypothesis, of course - that one must necessarily have magical ancestry to become a witch or wizard. But we all know that is not true. Sometimes non magical families bear magical children, and sometimes it is the other way around.' Hermione nodded more patiently than Draco would. That was common knowledge, any six year old could tell them that blood and magic were unrelated.

'There's also the separate entities theory which those of us who have completed the process of becoming an Animagus usually embrace. It states that our magic is a separate living being which chooses to manifest itself through a person due to some kind of.. attraction, similarity. Muggle writings also speak of spirits, souls, the anima, the atman, they call it. But it is considered that the beings that reside in magical folk are more… virile. And after a person's death they can linger if they choose. As a ghost, like our dear Hogwarts long term residents. Or simply as a presence. I think this is what allows the Resurrection Stone to summon someone from death and what appears during Priori Incantatem. It's not the person themself, but their magical being. Of course, most witches and wizards simply accept that they are magical and question no further'.

'And you personally find this theory to be well grounded?'

'Yes. When one is searching for their Animagus form, it is not a one sided process. Somehow feels like... communication. Anything else, Miss Granger?'

'I found a reference for a script by Yajnavalkya on something roughly translated as soul transfusion. It is said to be ancient, priceless and the only remaining copy is rumoured to be here, in Hogwarts library. Can we see it?'

'I remember the item your speak of, Hermione. But the box containing it was stolen. Dumbledore discovered the theft shortly before he died. By that time he knew of the horcruxes and thought Voldemort might have stolen this and a few other incredibly valuable volumes for his monstrous research. I really hope what you're doing is innocent, Miss Granger.' This time she looked directly at Draco. Of course she would.

'Last question, Professor, I know your time is in high demand. Do you think this separate entity could be killed without it affecting the wizard or witch it inhabits?'

The horror and realization on McGonagall's face were an eloquent answer.


	8. Chapter 8

After that the conversation quickly became stale and pointless. Draco felt cold in his bones, as if the room was suddenly full of dementors. He caught Hermione's eyes searching for his and internally scolded himself for not being brave enough, for losing hope so easily and letting her struggle for a solution alone.

'Would you like me to send someone for your children? You've come all this way, you might as well see them. ' McGonagall suggested, maybe in hope of brightening the mood.

'No, thank you, Professor. We wouldn't like to disrupt their classes. Tomorrow is Hogsmeade visiting day, so we'll probably just meet them there. We're staying at the Three Broomsticks tonight, if you could pass that information on to Rose, Hugo and Scorpius.' Hermione was apparently so distracted that she didn't hear how that statement sounded. Draco couldn't help but smirk at McGonagall's flabbergasted expression. He was dying anyway, he might as well savour life's presents.

…..

'How much time do you think we have?' He asked Hermione as they were slowly walking back to Hogsmeade. She looked at him, startled. Maybe she had forgotten that he was still beside her. She missed a step and lost her balance, so he extended his arm to steady her. She quickly brushed his hand off and looked around, as if someone could read more into his gesture.

'I don't know, Draco. I am still not sure how the connection works and why our lives are threatened at all. But ...not long, I reckon.' She seemed to swallow tears. 'The script is essential. There must be a hint there… If Voldemort had it, he might have given it to Bellatrix for safekeeping. It might be where she got the idea for 'Magicae Occidere' to begin with. Are you sure you haven't seen it in the Manor? It must be very old, written in hindi.'

'No. I'm sorry. Anything I could feel traces of dark magic on, I discarded when Scorpius started snooping around the house. He was extremely curious and had a knack for finding hideaways. If the book was ever there, it's gone now.'

'Nevermind. Let's just get our keys and rest. I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of reserving a room for you too. I presumed you would want to stay and meet your son as well.' Oh. So separate rooms after all.

…..

Later in the evening Draco was lying on the narrow bed at the Three Broomsticks, sinking into hopelessness and anguish. He couldn't stop thinking of Scorpius, his bright, lovely little boy. So much smarter than he was at this age, so much kinder. He would miss so much - the trepidations of his first love, his graduation from Hogwarts, him growing into a man. The pain of it was tearing him apart, making him want to scream at the world in protest. He tried to tell himself that he had enough beautiful memories, that he could let go with dignity. His eyes closed and he pictured Scorpius still a baby in Astoria's arms, his first smiles. His passion for muggle planes, his delighted screams every time he saw one leaving a white trail in the sky. The blue lacquered box with the symbol where he kept his first successful paper plane model… Fuck! McGonagall's words echoed in his mind … It was not a book at all. He rushed to Hermione's door and tried to knock, but it opened in the same moment. She was standing in front of him, flustered, in a very revealing dressing gown, obviously headed somewhere.

'Where were you going?' Draco slithered in the room and shut the door behind himself.

'Oh, I wasn't going anywhere. Just.. you know, I couldn't sleep and wanted to get a warm milk from downstairs.'

'Dressed like that? You're gonna cause somebody a heart attack! Anyway, listen! I kept imagining a book, but you said script, right? And McGonagall said the box containing it was missing…'

'Yes.. it should be no more than a few pages and it's incredibly old, so it must have been kept in a special box, designed to maintain proper conditions.'

'Well, yeah. It's blue and has symbols on the lid, which must be hindi, but I never thought to interpret it. Scorpius found it in the cellar and used it to keep his paper plane models inside, he said it reminded him of air and made the planes fly better. I thought it was children's fantasies...I didn't sense anything out of the ordinary, but he's always been very perceptive. The script could be still inside, I don't think I'd have noticed.'

'Should we go there now and look?' She sounded excited, but at the same time unwilling'. It could be just the box, after all.

'No, it will still be there tomorrow. Let's just stay and meet the kids in the morning. Besides, you're not getting away so easily this time. You were planning to sleep with me tonight and I intend to fulfill your desires.'

'That's completely preposterous...' She started, but he grabbed her and silenced her with a kiss. Her protests died in her throat and she relaxed in his arms, tightly pressing her body against him. She felt so tiny in his hands, yet the magnitude of emotions she stirred inside him was tremendous. Her lips were heaven embodied. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and he used the leverage to pick her up and sit on the bed with her in his lap. He looked up into the darkness of her eyes and slowly undid her braid. That mane of hers had always attracted him, beckoned him to get helplessly tangled. He tugged on her hair to get her mouth back on his and heard her moan. The kisses were starting to get really heated, Hermione was throwing her head back to bare her neck and her sternum for his lips. He wanted to devour her. His desire was so old and unsatiated that he wished to prolong every second of this overdue make out session. But she was rubbing herself against him, tugging on his shirt and the tightness in his pants was becoming painful. So he untied her dressing gown and let it slide to the ground with a silky hiss. His shirt and pants followed and he laid Hermione on the bed. She was right here, in only her neat black underwear, her body spread out before him like an empty canvas. He really wanted to honour her with the deserved artistry, but feared that his feverish need to be inside her would fail him again.

'Fuck, Granger! You make me feel like that fifteen year old boy again, drooling after you and fantasising about doing you in every school broomstick closet…'

'Well, come on already.' Hermione reached back and unhooked her bra, offering her breasts to his hungry gaze.

'Don't tease me, woman!' He pinned her to the bed with his body, catching both her wrists with his left hand and lifting them above her head. 'I will tie you to this bed and fuck you until we both die.' Her naked skin under his own was utter bliss. He used his right hand to caress her breasts, grazing each nipple gently with his thumb, till she was wriggling and whining for more. And who was he to deny her anything? He started kissing softly, occasionally giving them a light flick with his tongue. The goosebumps on her skin edged him on further and he moved down her stomach stopping to hastily remove her knickers. He thought for a second he could come just from the sound she made when he tasted her. His soft, light kisses between her legs seemed to do a number on her, since there she was, his Gryffindor nemesis, chanting his given name in prayer, completely forgotten his vile nature…

'Draco, please…'

'Please what, Granger?'

'Fuck me already…' That was all the begging he needed. He dove back in her embrace, sliding inside her, revelling in the sigh that escaped her lips when they were finally entwined. He moved slowly, trying to retain as much skin contact as possible, but Hermione pushed him back to a sitting position and readjusted herself in his lap. The rhythm of her hips hypnotized him, her hands were pulling on his hair, her lips were on his lips, on his face, she was licking his neck, biting his ears, scratching his shoulders...He grabbed her backside to push her even harder to himself, to go even deeper inside her and felt her tightening around him, uttering his name. His own orgasm overwhelmed him and they stayed like that glued to each other, completely blended together, oblivious to the sound of steps in front of the door.

_**Author's note: Hi, guys! So how do you feel about the story so far? Also I believe some credits are in order. The aesthetic I use for a cover picture is crafted by Vutleine. If you haven't seen her stunning visual work yet, check it out at murmurous-haunt Tumblr. Chapter 9 will be here according to the usual schedule.**_


	9. Chapter 9

It was barely 6AM when Hermione awoke at the most unlikely place in the world - on Draco Malfoy's naked shoulder. He was sleeping peacefully, his features serene, devout of any malice or irony. His lean hard body exuded heat. The light blond strands her nose was buried in smelled like fire and sin. Hermione thought about waking him up to demand some more of what he had given her last night, but decided she shouldn't be egoistic. He needed some rest. Besides, it was still early. She could go get some coffee and rethink her choice.

The conversation with McGonagall and its implications left her despondent, but now she had some hope. She also had... something else, which she never thought she would experience again, let alone at this age. Not to mention towards this man. The desire to sink her teeth in his skin and make him take her again in that direct animalistic way of his was becoming hard to resist, so she carefully disentangled herself from him and got dressed quietly.

…..

Downstairs behind the bar Rosmerta's youngest daughter was keeping busy drying glasses while not-so-discreetly throwing glances at one of the tables. Upon that table a man was snoring, the back of his head with its untidy black hair unmistakably identifying him as Harry Potter. Hermione sighed in irritation.

'When did he get here?'

'Late last night, Madam Weasley. He wanted to know which number you had and went up to your room, but he must have decided not to wake you. I offered him a room many times! He said he'll just wait for you here'. The adoration in the girl's voice was bordering on religious fervour. This had been the attitude of young girls towards Harry and Ron ever since the war. They were heroes, so they were considered irresistibly attractive. It was disgusting really, this girl could almost be Harry's daughter. Hermione had never thought to be jealous of all the female attention Ron received. Maybe she should have been. She took two cups of coffee and headed towards the table that Harry was drooling over.

'Did Ron sent you to spy on me?' She put down the cup close to his head, wanting to ensure him a harsh waking. Harry darted upwards, dizzy and disheveled, with the expression of a troll banged on the head.

'Hermione? What?'

'I said, did Ronald sent you to spy on me? Remember him? Redhead, a bit on the asshole side?'

'No, of course not, I was just in the vicinity and heard you were here…'.

'You came up to my room last night?' The mingled shock and guilt on his face were obvious, but there was also accusation.

'Yes, I shouldn't have but... How could you, Hermione?! With him! I understand that you're angry, but Malfoy?! He is terrible, evil, don't you remember what he's done?'

'I have a decent memory, thank you, Harry. But I don't think a person is born evil. Some people have a natural tendency maybe, and some are brought up in a wrong environment. I also believe that trying to become a better person is what's valuable. Changing yourself in spite of everything. Making amends. Also, who are you to talk to me about morality? You knew about Ron's affair, didn't you?' He shrinked in shame.

'I am so sorry… I should have done something, poured some sense into him... Ginny's got me sleeping on the sofa since she found out. What do you intend to do, 'Mione? Ron's devastated, he's hardly slept since you talked…I won't tell him anything about...Malfoy'

'His guilty conscience is really not my primary concern right now.'

'Your ...sickness? Is it getting worse?'

'That's a way to describe it, yes. Look, Harry, I wanted to talk to you anyway. When you used the Resurrection Stone in the Forbidden Forest and later when you met Dumbledore in you head, how real did they feel, their spirits?'

'I don't know exactly what you are asking, Hermione. They felt real, definitely. But I always thought they were just memories, in the form which my consciousness had chosen to give them.'

'Do you think it was your ideas that they were expressing?'

'Hm. No. Not really. Not Dumbledore for sure. What is this all about?'

'Long story, Harry. One more thing. While you had a piece of Voldemort's soul inside you, do you think that it could exert control in some moments?'

'No. I'm certain now. There was a point when I tried to blame my bad moods and irritability on the connection with him. But I don't think it ever affected me that much as a person. I was always impulsive and cranky when provoked. Hermione, you know if you need my help with anything…'

'I know. But I guess you don't get to be a hero this time. I don't hold a grudge against you for not telling me about Ron. It's not easy being torn between your best friends. He'll need you more during the separation, so do your best to support him. Tell him about Draco, if you think it will make it easier to accept.' She kissed his forehead and stood to leave. Harry's worried eyes followed her to the staircase. Was he grieving his best friends' marriage or dreading the task of tending to a broken-hearted Ron, she had no clue.

…..

Back in her room she found Draco walking out of the bathroom, his hair and body glistening, with nothing on but a towel around his waist. He looked delicious.

'Fancied an early morning walk, did you?'

'Went downstairs to get coffee. Apparently, Harry had waited to talk to me all night long. He tried to come to the room last night.' His eyes widened.

'Are you telling me that Saint Potter heard us fucking?' Draco sounded annoyingly pleased. 'Well, if I wasn't dying anyway, I would consider my life threatened'. He somehow had the strength to make jokes about it. Hermione suspected that he ascribed her the ability to get them out of this in time. She wasn't so confident.

'Don't be like that, Draco. You know he is a good person.'

'Yes. But he only approves of a certain type of goodness. And not all of us are blessed with his selfless nobility.' He had a good point.

'I ordered breakfast. It will be served downstairs in a few minutes. You should get dressed.'

'Naah, I rather like the way you are ogling me'. Oh, he was insufferable. And gorgeous. She sat on the side of the bed.

'Draco, why didn't you dissolve your marriage?' Well, that killed his mood swiftly.

'What for? It was a convenient arrangement. And Scorpius didn't have to split his holidays between two places. I do what I like, and so does she.'

'But you must have loved her at the beginning, right?' His face grew serious and he drew near her, kneeling in front of her by the bed.

'Maybe I did. But understand this, Granger… for me there was only one. I knew perfectly well that I couldn't be with her, that she would never take me. And I wanted to build a family, to leave something behind me. To improve on the Malfoy name if you will. It had to be someone and Astoria was a good choice. Practical. That doesn't mean she was my first choice.' He caught her chin in his right palm, his face so near, his eyes of molten silver drilling into hers.

'Naming me Draco was good intuition on my mother's part. For once I hold on, I won't let go till it bleeds…' As if to prove his words he bit her lower lip hardly, drawing a drop of blood and then licking it clean.

'And now?' She asked, trying again to contain the desire that flared up inside her.

'Now it's your call.'

_**Author's note: Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Tuesday.**_


	10. Chapter 10

When Hermione Granger walked into Malfoy Manor for the third time in her life, she was armed with resolve and a large pile of dictionaries. This time she entered through the fireplace in the drawing room which made her shiver a little, despite the different furnishing. A male house elf in a livery greeted her politely.

'The master is expecting you in his study, Madame. Please follow me'. Hermione walked behind him through a dark hallway lined with portraits. Pale blond people with haughty expressions eyed her suspiciously. Hermione sighed with relief when they finally reached the door of Draco's study. She was overly sensitive. The emotional turmoil during the last couple of days was taking its toll on her. Meeting with her children was splendid otherwise, but she did have to announce that she was leaving their father. Thankfully, Rose and Hugo were bright and mature for their age and there was no horrid drama. Hugo wept for a while and wanted an explanation, but calmed down after hearing his sister say that she just wanted her parents happy. Rose had sensed long ago that the atmosphere at home was not what it was supposed to be.

Inside the study she saw Draco sitting behind his desk, signing some papers. There was someone else in the room - a goblin, dressed like a Gringotts representative.

'Thank you, that would be all, Brimruk. Draco dismissed the goblin, passing him the papers. 'I will expect the confirmation as soon as possible'. Brimruk bowed and left with a short nod towards Hermione. The door closed behind the two magical creatures and she was alone in the room with Draco.

After all that happened she still didn't know how to greet him. What was he to her? An acquaintance, an ally, a lover? She put the books she was carrying on the desk and decided to follow her instincts this time. Which led to a thirsty, long kiss.

'I can get used to that'. Draco said, when they finally allowed their lips to separate.

'Maybe you'll get to. Or not…'. Depends on the contents of the box mostly, she thought. 'Why was a Gringotts employee here?'

'Granger, have I told you that you're extremely nosy? I didn't want you to know yet, but you arrived here early… I'm arranging Astoria's compensation for the divorce.' He took hold of her hand, as if she could run off suddenly. 'Don't feel pressured, this doesn't mean you have to do anything.'

'Oh. No, I don't. I've set things in motion as well.' His eyes lit up and he kissed her, pressing her to the desk, one hand grasping her hair, the other quickly sliding beneath her blouse to get a proper hold on her waist.

'Draco, the box!' Damn him, he had her breathless in seconds.

'Right. Here it is. I haven't opened it. Figured we should do it together.' Out of the top desk drawer he took out a dark blue lacquered wooden box. On the lid there were hindi markings in deep golden paint. Almost immediately Hermione knew that there was more to it, but she still opened it. Inside it lay a plane model, cut out from thick white paper. Nothing else could be seen.

'There could be additional safety measures that make the content invisible. I suppose the writing on the lid would tell us how to reach the script.' Hermione grabbed one of her dictionaries. When she deciphered it, she almost laughed.

'It says "embrace lotus and fly". They must have wanted to ensure that only initiates on the path to enlightenment could read it. Or just that you keep practicing while reading. Little did they know that in a few centuries half the muggle population would be doing yoga'. To Draco' s dismay she crossed her legs in the lotus asana on his desk and reopened the box. Underneath the paper plane a two page script appeared. Anxious, she started translating. Draco settled in one of the large dark green armchairs to wait.

….

Hermione was so absorbed in her work that she jumped, when she heard his voice.

'How is it going? No hurry, I'm just worried your legs would be sore after being tied in a knot like that for too long.."

'I'm done, actually.' She turned to face him. 'It's no wonder you didn't sense dark magic on it. It's not intended as harmful. Mostly it comprises instructions for out-of-body travelling. A complicated sequence of meditations and breathing exercises that would allow your consciousness to fly immaterial for a while together with your magical being. It says that when you feel tugging in your core chakra, you must go back in your body immediately. That must be where the connection lies.'

'What would Voldemort even need this for?'

'There's something else. Yajnavalkya warns readers against attempting some dangerous practices. For example trying to enter and enslave someone else's body. It says that if the "transfusion" of the soul is involuntary, the core stings are torn and the body slowly dies. When the sender returns to his body, he would have murdered the recipient body and soul. Once broken, the strings can only be revived by the connection with another "atman" on the "border". My translation is rough, but I think that's the gist of it.'

'Now that sounds like something a dark wizard can get ideas from. But what does it mean about us?'

'I think… it means that our own magical entities are lost forever. But if there is a free … soul being that wants voluntarily to inhabit us, there might be a chance. And it needs to be done on the border between life and death'.

'When you say free, you mean the magical being from someone who died?'

'Yes. Someone who died and has decided to linger around, because they still had deep attachment to this world...When that magical being enters us, it would lose every trace of its own sentience.'

'Won't this be like .. possession? I don't want somebody else's magic to control me…'

'No. Even Voldemort's horcrux inside Harry couldn't outrule his own will. But you'll get that person's specific magical signature. Their prowess and maybe some inclinations. You'll probably display their Patronus at least for a while. But we must put ourselves very near death for the connection to be established. It would be risky.' She moved to the armchair where he was sitting and accommodated herself in his lap. Her fingers traced his jawline, then his lips. 'Do you still want to try?

'Yes'. His voice was firm and unflagging. Hermione buried her face in his skin and started kissing his neck. She was beginning to realize how lonely she had been this past few years. How much the air around her felt like a cage. Draco's breathing was gradually turning into low moans. She could feel him growing hard beneath her and she undid his trousers, slipping a hand in to caress him. The sweet sounds of arousal he was making left her wanting more and she dropped to her knees to extract some. He felt so warm and lovely in her hand that she placed a kiss of reverence on his tip. She usually rather disliked oral sex. Apparently not with him, she thought, while she was taking him in her mouth. Slowly, deliberately she dragged her tongue around the head, enjoying every second, relishing the taste of him.

'Fuck! Fuck, Granger... I'm not twenty anymore, I can't endure your torture much longer. Come here.' Hermione hesitated for a moment, then stood up and undressed, reaching to unbutton and discard Draco's shirt. She straddled his legs, facing away from him, her back to his torso. Draco seemed to appreciate the idea.

'Oh, this just became my favorite armchair in the world'. She gave him a sly smile over her shoulder and started moving,gripping the armrests, balancing on her toes. The sensation of his hands along her back was sending shivers up her spine. She imposed a gentle pace, inhaling and exhaling with every rise and fall of her hips. But it wasn't that long before Draco grew impatient, taking control of her body. He grabbed her waist, quickening and deepening his trusts. Hermione leaned forward slightly to steady herself and she found that marvelous, perfect angle. His right hand moved to wrap tightly around her neck, drowning her in blissful agony. Hopefully there was no one near enough this time to hear her cry out his name, as their bodies synced in ecstasy again. Afterwards she relaxed, enveloped in his arms, feeling his heartbeat slowly return to normal against her shoulder blade. Trying to focus on her contentment, she disregarded any other thought.

'Hermione…' She shushed him. There was no need to state the obvious. Draco's mother had passed away recently, her love for him immense and undeniable. Transcendent. Whereas Hermione was muggle-born. There was no existing magical entity willing to make such a sacrifice for her.

_**Author's note: There will be two more chapters after this one. I sincerely hope you are all enjoying this, you are welcome to comment and criticise :)**_


	11. Chapter 11

Draco's heartbeat was thudding in his ears. He was sitting bare chested on some kind of a stretcher. The atmosphere in this place was grim enough even without Hermione's nervous fumbling around that diabolical machine. She kept frowning at the numerous knobs and handles and then checking something in a large textbook with the human vascular system drawn on the cover.

'What did you say this particular type of vehicle was called again?'

'An ambulance. Relax, it's not going to be in use for the next couple of hours and there is everything we need in here. Sneaking into an actual hospital would be far more difficult.' Yeah, very relaxing indeed. Especially considering she was supposed to stop his heart and then restart it with that terrible contraption.

'Are you sure it wouldn't be safer if we asked someone magical to help? Or one my house elves?'

'Right, like there is anyone to whom I would entrust both my life and yours. From our large pool of mutual friends. And house elf magic doesn't have the necessary precision. Don't be so condescending towards muggle inventions! They are quite ingenious. This here is called a defibrillator. It delivers a specific dose of electric current…'

'Please, Granger, I don't need to know. I trust you. Also don't tell me why I had to remove my chest hair.' She chuckled briefly. He had always loved seeing her so consumed in solving a puzzle. He only wished it wasn't a question of life and death this time… His affairs were set in order for some time now. Should anything go wrong, Scorpius would receive his will and a profound farewell letter.

Draco felt the numbness radiating from his core spread a little further. It seemed like the physical effects of the broken core strings were beginning to manifest with increasing power. Hermione was feeling it too. Like your insides are slowly turning to stone, as she described it. He had volunteered for the first attempt. Maybe if the procedure was unsuccessful she would find another way for herself. Hermione approached him and put her delicate hands on his shoulders.

'Are you ready?'

'Yes. No, wait. There's something I need to tell you.' She looked at him expectantly with those warm, passionate eyes. It was too early to say I love you. And also far, far too late.

'I wanted everything with you. To drink coffee in the morning and share the paper. To just tell you about my day at work or contrive some kind of grandiose plans. To have those tedious dialogues about what to eat. To fight or make love till morning. To raise a child. Watch your hair grow white…' His voice trembled. 'I wanted you in my life, Hermione.' She looked down and moved her fingers along his collar bone.

'I like your shoulders…'

'Really, Granger?! That's what I get for my heartfelt confession? You like my shoulders?!' She had the audacity to snort at him.

'Shut up for a second, will you. I like your shoulders, and your lips and your hands… every piece of you and the whole. When I touch you, it feels like a revelation every time. Since you came back in my life, something clicked into place and I.. .don't want to lose it. But I don't want to drive you deeper into this, if it will cause you suffering when I…"

"You won't. We'll find a way.' She feigned a smile and blinked to remove the tears from her eyes. Her lips pressed into his and he let her push him back to lay on the stretcher.

'Close your eyes, Draco.' Another kiss landed on his lips and then flew away, as Hermione walked back to handle the machine. There was pain, sharpness, thunder and then an endless brightness ceased him.

…..

Draco opened his eyes to a blurry image of Hermione. He heard a sudden intake of breath and she spoke softly.

'I'm here, it's ok. Don't hurry, just breathe for a while'. She sat next to him, holding his hand as his consciousness regained clarity. He managed to sit upwards, feeling dizzy and thirsty, but otherwise quite lively.

'Do you think it worked? I don't feel the coldness inside anymore. But it could just be the electrocution.'

'Let's see.' She said and passed along his wand. Draco hesitated for a second.

'Lumos'. A ray of light appeared from the top of it. Blessed, beautiful light. He almost cried from sheer joy. Hermione was smiling brightly at him, that marvelously altruistic woman. She didn't believe she would survive, but was still happy for him. He focused on the intense positive emotion of regaining his magic for the moment. 'Expecto Patronum!'

A silver dragon appeared, flapping his wings graciously. It could only mean one thing.

'My mother.' He answered Hermione's silent question. 'She used to display a swan, when she was younger, but it transformed into a dragon after she had me. I think it always made my father feel emasculated. His Patronus is a hyena. Not very manly, one might say.' She laughed and started to gather her things.

'She loved you very much. I'm still sorry that it had to happen, but I think what was left of her in that magical being would be glad to endow you with its essence.' Not a trace of envy in her voice. He would have enough time to contemplate his mother's sacrifice. Now he had to take care of the other woman of his life.

'Where do you think you're going? It's your turn. Don't give me that look, Granger, we'll still try.' He needed her to agree. Desperately.

'Draco, there is no point…'

'We'll try anyway. Please, talk me through this, I don't want to kill you out of ignorance.' She sighed and began the lecture on muggle urgent medicine. He listened attentively, while she was explaining the mechanics and the measurements he had to memorize.

'After that you wait two minutes and reapply it to my chest. If the line remains straight, you increase the voltage to this level. If it still doesn't change... here is the maximum. Understood?' He nodded and observed her as she removed her shirt and bra and settled on the stretcher. Really not the context he would prefer to see her breasts in. He gathered every ounce of composure he had and took hold of the two metallic plates.

'You'll live, Granger. Promise me with all of that stubborn Gryffindor heart of yours.'

'I promise.' She whispered and he touched the plates to her chest. He watched in horror as her body seized for a moment and lay motionless, breathless.

Those were the two longest, most gruesome minutes of his life. And that included enduring the Cruciatus, having the Death Mark burnt in his flesh and looking at his mother's coffin be lowered into the ground.

'Come back to me.' He heard himself mutter in her hair, over and over. Then it was time. The electricity buzzed in the machine, he pressed the plates into one another, the way Hermione explained, and then to her chest. Her body jumped again, but the line remained flat. No.. oh, no.

Cold sweat was dripping in his eyes, as he adjusted the measurement on the machine and tried again. This time Hermione's eyes flew open. Shaking, he hurried to her, clutching her, placing his hand over her heart to treasure its beating.

'Are you okay, how do you feel?' It took a minute for her to answer.

'A little shaken, but mostly the same.' He took out her wand from her purse and put it in her hand.

'Lumos'. Her voice was so quiet and scared. Not that it mattered for this spell. Especially not for her, who used to be so incredibly adept at wordless magic. At anything, really. But there was only darkness this time. He held her tightly as she wept, her whole body shuddering against him. No matter how hard he tried, he alone wouldn't be able to warm her. To save her. Neither with his hands, nor with this cursed love he was feeling. And he hated himself a little for it, but his mind was already calculating the next steps of the plan he had already set in motion.

_**Author's note: Expect the last chapter on Tuesday. The past few weeks have been quite turbulent for me, but I think there aren't going to be delays. Thank you for reading!**_


	12. Chapter 12

Draco closed the door behind himself as quietly as possible and crept into the room almost on tiptoes. He was exhausted after the last pretty eventful 48 hours and on top of that worried about the ramifications of his actions. But Hermione Granger sleeping in his own bed at the Manor was a sight for his sore eyes. She was becoming weaker by the hour. Probably the only reason he was even able to convince her of leaving her hotel room for his chambers. That and the temptation of impeccable house elves' cuisine. He approached the bed and left the bottle he was carrying on the bedside table. She stirred and opened her eyes.

'Draco? What time is it? I must have fallen asleep again…" He noticed with satisfaction that she was wearing one of his own nightshirts despite having her luggage at hand. Her hair looked like a flock of pixies had been playing hide and seek in it. Adorable.

'It's evening. You should be sleeping, it will do you good. You already look so much better'.

'Really? I don't feel any different.'

'Yes. Your cheeks have regained color and the dark circles around your eyes have almost disappeared'. Thankfully, lying untraceably came to him as easily as speaking. And he had no intention of letting her near a mirror anytime soon. She shook her head and smiled at him.

'What's the occasion?' She gestured towards the bottle of wine.

'We are celebrating". Draco made use of the moment to remove his robes, taking out from the inside pocket a small velvet box. He sat beside her and opened it to reveal the ring resting inside. The large alexandrite in the middle encircled with smaller diamonds was glowing, dark purple in the evening light. Hermione gasped.

'Draco, this is madness! You know I cannot marry you...neither of us is even divorced yet. I was thinking that I shouldn't even stay here any longer. I have to write McGonagall to excuse the kids from school, so that I can spend whatever time I have left with them, at home…' Draco placed one hand on her shoulder to calm her.

"Don't consider this an engagement ring. It's just a present. The ring is a family relic that used to belong to my mother and I would like to see it on your hand.' She looked uncertain still, but allowed him to place the ring on her finger. The jewel was enchanted to be a perfect fit, of course. As she studied it, mesmerized, Draco conjured two glasses and poured the wine.

'Taste this, it will make you feel better. Top class raspberry wine, from my own cellar. Or do you still suspect me of trying to slip innocent girls love potion?' She chuckled and sipped on her wine, exclaiming at the richness of its taste. Thank Merlin for the nature of Gryffindors. Brave. And gullible.

'If a lifesaving wine exists, this really must be it.' She took another sip. Draco watched the dark red liquid disappear between her lips and then took the glass from her to place it back on the bedside table.

'Did I save you? Cause I know you saved me too…' he grabbed her neck and pulled her close in a raspberry tasting kiss. She relaxed on the bed and he followed, without moving an inch away from her lips. He could dissolve in that kiss. Their lips barely moving against each other, tongues touching ever so slightly. His desire for her was a greedy beast, but he was resigning himself to just this tonight. Kissing her, tracing her features with his fingers, breathing in her skin. Softly, gently. It was not a good time for anything else.

'Draco, I want you...what are you waiting for?' Granger whisper in his ear. Well, fuck timing. He ripped open the nightshirt she was wearing, a small voice in his head rejoicing for having magic to fix it later, and discarded his own clothes on the floor. His right hand slipped between her legs. Oh, damn.

'Yes, I can see that.' He descended upon her without further ado, yet again marvelling at how perfectly their bodies fit, as if they were made for each other. This time he moved in a lazy, languid rhythm, tightly wrapped in Hermione's arms and legs. He loved being glued to her like that. It made him feel boundless, weightless. The best kind of out of body experience. She was dragging her nails along the skin of his back, digging them into his arms, his hips, her pleasure flowing through her skin into his body, magnified by his own, escalating. Blazing. He came inside her, pulling on her hair, probably too hard and then shifted a little to lay beside her, afraid not to crush her beneath his weight. She looked drowsy, her eyes were closed, a smile ghosting on her lips.

'Only you can set me on fire like that.' She drawled.

'It's what dragons do, my love.' But there was no one to appreciate his witticism. Hermione was breathing evenly, the sleep potion dragging her into a deep slumber.

Draco quickly retrieved the other item from the inside pocket of his robes - a small flask- and returned to Hermione. His hands were shaking while he poured the bright green contents inside her mouth. The refined cobra poison was supposed to stop her heart without displaying other of the snake bite effects and without interacting with the sleep potion. But having so little time, he hadn't been able to brew either himself. He hated not having full control. Especially when the stakes were this high.

Hermione's trust in him was surprising and completely unjustified. She would hate him for what he had done. But it didn't matter. Not as long she lived. He placed his hand on her naked chest. It was unmoving. Another terrible two minutes elapsed and then he pointed his wand between her perfect white breasts.

'Cores Resumptum'. A beat. And another. There we go, no need for barbaric machinery, he thought, finally relaxing a little. The effects of the sleep potion wouldn't wear off until morning, so he snuggled next to Hermione, covered their bodies with a blanket and whispered 'Nox'.

….

He woke up to a sunlit room and a lustful Hermione Granger biting on his neck, her right hand making its way beneath his underwear.

'Oi, someone's feeling very energetic this morning". She looked up at him, her cheeks really flushed this time.

"Yes. I am also ravenous. Your wine must have done wonders last night. I slept very well and do feel better. There were some strange dreams… but it's all very fuzzy. I wonder…" He traced her glance towards the desk where her wand lay discarded as useless.

'Go for it". Not that she needed much encouragement. Hermione slipped on the torn nightshirt and fetched the vine wood wand.

'Reparo". Buttons flew towards her from all over the floor and quickly reattached themselves to the shirt. Draco's grin was threatening to climb over his ears as he watched her cry and laugh and jump and scream from happiness. She threw herself in his arms and did what she always did when confused - started talking.

'We really knew nothing about the curse or about how souls and bodies are connected. Maybe it was a question of match - maybe your mother was a better match for you than my donor and that's why it worked instantaneously with you. But it my case it might have taken a few days for the connection to really take hold. Merlin, I cannot believe it…'

'That sounds perfectly reasonable'. Even more so now that you came up with it yourself, he thought.

'But who? Who would do this for me?' His heart skipped a beat when she conjured a Patronus. A dashing silver white peacock appeared, holding its head up high, slightly rocking its magnificent tale. Hermione's eyes widened in amazement.

'A peacock?! Do we know anybody whose Patronus was a peacock?'

'No, not really. But isn't it possible that it was an older soul, someone who didn't know you personally but still decided that you are worthy of such a sacrifice, that you have so much more to give to the world?'

'Well, yes, it is possible, I guess.' Her brow was furrowed in thought again. Not a good sign. She would figure it out eventually and anathemise him. Most likely very soon.

'It's a symbol of redemption. The white peacock. Redemption and rebirth.' Draco hummed in agreement, his attention drawn to the window, where a large grey owl was knocking with its yellow peak. He opened it and the bird threw in the morning edition of Daily Prophet before disappearing with a sharp squeal. Hermione had dismissed the peacock and was now staring at him intently.

'Now that I am no longer a walking corpse...Say I wanted to consider it an engagement ring…"

'Then it is an engagement ring.' She walked into his arms and they kissed. From the front page of the paper his father's face looked up on them, his cold features unreadable. The last words he spoke to him floated in Draco's mind. _If I do this thing, will it make you love the memory of me? _The picture was very old, taken before his imprisonment. The tagline read "Lucius Malfoy commits suicide in his cell, mere months before his release date". Redemption. What a beautiful concept. Draco felt something tugging at his core strings, pulling him even closer to Hermione, craving to tie them together for good.

_**Author's note: The End! Thank you for bearing with me :) Writing this was very pleasant and somewhat cathartic for me. Feel free to share any thoughts about the ending or the story in its entirety!**_


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